


Palallelië

by Varaen



Series: Fills for LLA 2016 [13]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dimension Travel, Elves, Finweans with Issues, Gen, Rule 63, Time Travel, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6759292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varaen/pseuds/Varaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three women from an alternate timeline wake up in Valinor. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the 30.04. prompt: A Few of my Favourite Things  
> Palallelië is Quenya for far-travel, an attempt to find an elvish word for dimension-hopping.
> 
> For this prompt I decided to go all out. Thus, I proudly present to you this colourful hodgepodge of all my favourite tropes that could be smushed together into one fic: Time Travel! Dimension Travel! Sex Swap! Fix-it! Everybody Lives!  
> The protagonists of this story and their background is lifted from my fic “Wayfarer”, which is based on the simple premise that Míriel stayed in Cuiviénen instead of going to Aman, where she first bore Fëanáro, did not die and had a bunch of other kids later with another guy. Those Avari later have peaceful and happy trade relations with the Noldor and everyone is happier than in canon. At least that's the plan, I did not get that far with my writing yet.

I woke up to the unexpected brightness of the Mingling, alone on the bare grass. At first, I thought it an exceptionally crude prank of my siblings’, but when I sat up and looked around, I realized that I had awoken exactly where I had fallen asleep. It was the tent that was missing, along with my wife and the furs and blankets that had made up our bridal bed. At least I found my clothes and jewelry strewn around me all over the clearing once I got back on my feet. The forest was undisturbed and showed no signs of last night’s revelry, which only confused me further.

I had only just collected all my belongings when I heard footsteps approaching. Habit more than a conscious decision saw me crouching in a tree, hidden from view. In my head, I knew that the forests of Valinor were safe, and that no elf here would bear me ill will, but my hunter’s reflexes were deeper ingrained than that. From my perch, I watched Míriel and Kasanárë step into the clearing, heads tucked close together in conversation.

“Have you seen anyone else?” I asked as I jumped down in front of them, only to receive twin negations. “Everything but your clothes was gone when you woke up as well? Do you have any idea what happened?”

“If we hadn’t been there for your brother’s wedding, I’d say this is some weird Noldor custom, or maybe a prank, but I can’t imagine Irissë allowing that either. I also can’t find a reason why they would leave us three of all people out here. Or how the forest returned to this pristine state.”

“So we’re all equally clueless. Great. Let’s go towards Tirion and see what happens.”

I doubted anything beyond us arriving at the city sooner or later would happen, but I had been proven to be wrong before and I was quite ready to be proven wrong again. Wandering the forests may be a nice dream, but it should be Irissë there with me, frolicking through the meadows, not my aunt and grandmother. I dearly hoped Irmo would not be so cruel to send me such a dream at all, never mind during my wedding night.

We reached Tirion still during the Mingling. The white city was as resplendent as ever, but it lacked the decorative streamers that should still be hanging along the streets, streaked white, silver and deep blue for Irissë and silver, turquoise and deep red for me. Everyone we passed stared at us just like they did when we first came to Valinor. No, it was worse than ever before, because they were not distracted by father’s and grandfather’s dramatic reunion, and all the more captivated by our finery. I was grateful for the embroidered tabards Míriel had made for the whole family, as part of the customary display of wealth and skill on a wedding. We still looked very unlike the Noldor, but at least they were staring at my strangeness and not at my nudity. Aside from the rude stares and the disconcerting ordinariness of everyday life in the city at what should be a feast day, we reached the great square unhindered, if not unobserved.

The house of my grandfather was empty. A servant I did not recognize refused us entry with a disapproving glance, but the house was as silent as I had never witnessed it before. There was always one or more of my little cousins pattering around and later when all grandchildren of Finwë were adults, there was always some roughhousing, a debate or something else that brought liveliness to the great manor. Unwilling to disturb a court session, we settled instead on the benches around Galathilion, to watch people pass us by and wait for someone we knew to arrive.

“No one here seems to even know _of_ us,” Kasanárë sighed as she lay back down on her bench.

“I noticed. All of this seems so unreal, but I don’t think we are dreaming, either.”

Neither my aunt nor my grandmother were voicing anything new, but like myself, they were still baulking at the realization that was slowly proving to be inevitable, as if uttering the words aloud would change anything. I was wondering if I should pull my courage together and just say it, when our collective musings were interrupted by a shout.

“Míriel! My love!”

Finwë was as pale as milk, which was emphasized by his dark and heavy court robes. Around him, I could glimpse the remainder of our family, but all eyes were fixed on Finwë as he stumbled forward, reaching out for Míriel like a man drowning.

“Am I dreaming, or are you an apparition come to torment my waking hours?” he cried.

At this point, my patience with this farce of alternate Tirion ran out. I had never before witnessed my soft-spoken and kind grandfather to utter such hurtful things, but behind him I could see Indis school her face into a blank mask, showing that it was not the first time for her.

“Grandfather!” I stood up to scold him properly, going as far as imitating my great-grandfather’s favourite scolding posture. “Why would you say something like that? Why would you even think something like that?”

As Finwë sputtered, I noticed my father coming closer. Or at least a man who physically looked like my father. He was covered in layer upon layer of deep red robes, looking every kind the princely Noldor. I had seen my father bedecked like this only once, when we had exchanged clothes with his siblings, our cousins and their kin during our first visit, mocking the different fashions and having a grand day overall. He looked much less cheerful right now, brows drawn together in the forbidding frown I had learned to associate with failed experiments. I had thought nothing could make father frown like that, but here his double was, proving me wrong.

“Father? Who is that? What is going on?”

Valar bless him for the perfect conversation starter, even if his questions made him seem deliberately obtuse.

“I am Tyelperimmírë, and these are Karanárien and Míriel.”

No need to overstrain the Noldor with the reality of other people speaking completely different languages. We had long grown used to our names flowing differently from the tongues of our cousins on yonder shores.

“Míriel? Ammë?”

There it was, the one-track mind that blessed us with incredible inventions, flittering after every scrap of information like a magpie after a glittering bangle.

“I think proper introductions and a few explanations are in order. But maybe not in that order.” Kasanárë grinned as she spoke, growing as amused by her brother’s exasperation as I already was.

“Yes, I would like an explanation very much. Come,” Finwë declared and swept across the plaza.

 

* * *

 

The interior of Finwë’s residence was disconcerting. Everything was slightly off. Tapestries hung on opposite walls from what I remembered. Some pieces were missing completely, which threw me off until I remembered that we had brought them across the sea, and here nobody would. Finwë led us into a meeting room that felt distressingly formal for what was basically a family reunion and sent servants for tea. He had us sit across the table from him, where he settled down flanked by Indis, his children and their spouses, while his grandchildren spread around the table. I recognized all but seven of them, taking them to be my and my siblings’ counterparts, since not-father had to have a different wife. Seven sons seemed a bit excessive, though.

“So,” Finwë began with steepled hands, a gesture he often used to impress the seriousness of a matter upon his audience. “I was promised an explanation. I am waiting.”

Oh no. That was his very serious face. I had only seen it once before, when Magitë and Findekáno had decided to marry and spent weeks plotting with the family how to get it publicly approved. I owed my own marriage to this face. It was very intimidating.

“Well. I may have left out that Míriel is my grandmother, and Karanárien my aunt when I introduced us, but that’s about it for introductions. I believe to know all your names, except for those seven, but I would like an introduction nonetheless, before I can try to explain our presence.”

I learned that not-father was called Fëanáro, and that unimaginative naming skills were a Finwean trait, as seen by my not-siblings’ father-names. The familiar woman at his side was Nerdanel, an artist mother had become friends with back home.

“I am granddaughter to Finwë and Míriel by their son Fëanárë,” I announced with a grin, delighted by the shocked expressions of my audience. I walked over to my counterpart. “Actually, I am the third child of Fëanárë. You might notice the resemblance.”

When I made Tyelkormo stand up, everyone could see that _resemblance_ was an understatement. We were equally tall and shared the same colouring down to the exact hue of silver hair. Were I male, or he female, we might have been twins.

“I don’t know how we came to be here, or why, but you are not the Finwë or the Indis and so forth that we know, of that I am certain. Most notably, my father is no Noldo.”

I could see the disbelief plainly in their expressions.

“You are an adherent of the multiverse theory then?” asked Findis. I had not thought about it that way before, but I was familiar enough with the concept to feel like it could apply to the current situation and indicated my agreement.

“And the point of divergence?”

“I think I know,” Míriel said softly, walking over to Finwë. “Show us your arms, my dear.”

Together, they draped up the layered sleeves so that his bare forearms lay flat on the table.

“Tattooing fell out of custom in Valinor,” she explained, as she traced the faded lines with her fingers. “You carry no ink for your children. My Finwë had his firstborn immortalized on his skin before he left. As much as he could, at least. Fëanárë was born after the Sundering. She went with you to Valinor, your Míriel, didn’t she? Fëanáro was born much later and she died. Then, you married Indis, later than my Finwë, which would make your other children younger as well. But why would she not return? Enough time has passed to recover. And what made your children, and their children, despise each other so?”

Finwë almost melted into Míriel’s embrace as she stood behind him. I had to suppress my laughter when I noticed some of my not-kin turning red, with shame or anger I could not tell, and trying to conceal it, surprised and embarrassed that Míriel could read them so well. Only Fëanáro glared at her instead.

“You know so much, yet understand nothing,” he spat.

“Then explain it to me. Tell me why your children glare at their cousins as if they were Melkor’s thralls. Tell me why you hate your own siblings so, when I witnessed my son becoming fast friends with them after their first meeting even though he grew up with five other siblings. Who poured your heart so full of scorn that there is no space for your kin?”

He was clenching his teeth, struggling to remain silent. I wondered if it was because of his pride or his secretiveness, but Kasanárë answered for him.

“I may know the answer to all your questions, mother. Do you remember the trouble we had with Manwë when we first came to Valinor?”

“So what? You can’t mean… No. No. That overgrown chicken!”

Admonishing looks centered on Míriel from all but Finwë, who was already familiar with her outspoken nature.

“Míriel refused to be reembodied, which does not surprise me, Mandos is not conductive to healing. So Manwë made Finwë choose between his spouse and the chance for more children. And Míriel volunteered to stay in Mandos until Arda is remade, so another woman could give Finwë the children he so desired. Am I right so far?”

“Please, continue.”

“If we are right with the assumption that the point of divergence is my refusal to leave Cuiviénen, then your problem is simple: When he entered Arda, Manwë was geared to closely to the great eagles. At least that is what I believe. He does not understand that not all creatures mate for life in pairs consisting of one male and one female, least of all elves. It took irrefutable evidence to convince him otherwise.”

The tension was almost tangible. I remembered the irrefutable evidence my family had presented to the Vala in form of a detailed genealogy of Finwë, Míriel and all their kin. Its necessity was testament to the marring of Arda, but the Valar’s ignorance had not harmed us on the far shores of Arda. In Valinor, especially in this Valinor, Finwë’s descendants had suffered greatly for their elder sibling’s misconceptions.

I doubted that this was the root of all their troubles. Born and raised under the light of the trees, Fëanáro shone less brightly than my father, even though I had expected the opposite, and he was not the only one. Maitimo was the very image of Magitë, but stern and guarded whereas my brother was easygoing and sociable. The same was true for my other not-siblings and not-me. The softness of the blessed land had hardened them, and their cousins also. Even merry Laurefindë’s face sported a most impressive frown.

“Is that your purpose? To stumble into court in your exotic costumes, spouting contrived tales about my family in order to achieve what? Disgrace my mother’s memory with your lies? Further the discord in Aman? Tell the truth!”

I should not be surprised by Fëanáro’s stubborn refusal to believe us. He was clearly not the only one doubting parts, or even all of our explanations, but to have a man suspect me who was wearing my father’s face, down to the exact expression he had whenever he caught me slacking and found my excuses lacking, raised eyebrow and all, made me irrationally angry.

“I do not care if you believe me or not. Grandmother has told nothing but the truth, because our experiences might help you. If you are content all the same, I am happy for you. If you are not, I don’t care. I only want to go home to my wife, where things make sense and my father is a sensible person.”

I ended my rant with a huff, feeling lighter now that I given voice to my annoyance.

“In the meantime, regardless of everything else, could you provide us with a place to stay until we can go home, and maybe some simple clothes, so we don’t stand out as much? I would appreciate if you could send word to your father, so we may have an audience with the Valar, or they may be at least informed of our plight.”

The last sentence, Míriel directed towards Indis, who signaled her assent.

“You can stay in the blue guest suite. I’ll have servants bring you some robes. Findis, you wanted to go to Valmar anyway, will you bear the message also?”

It was refreshing to see that despite all differences, Indis was as decisive as I knew her. With the ease of long practice, she continued to dismiss her children and grandchildren without them noticing, reminding every single one of them of some task or project they had planned.

“I fear that there is much you have yet to tell us. Will you join us for dinner later?” she asked once there was only the five of us left. I laughed in admiration of her cunning as Míriel accepted the invitation on all our behalf.


	2. Chapter 2

The blue guest suite was a lovely arrangement of five rooms with a shared sitting room. The robes Indis had promised were brought by a pair of servants who barely glanced at us before they hurried off. They were the kind of clothes one would give a visitor who lost or stained their own, sturdy and plain, at least in comparison to Noldorin high fashion. I for one was glad that I had spent so much time helping Irissë into her robes, and out of them, for it helped me to pick out the appropriate colours, styles and accessories for each of us.

“Do you see how well the colours fit us? I think these are casual clothes of the late queen. She probably made them herself, I think I recognize some of the embroidery.”

We lounged for a while in the bath and were barely done dressing and primping each other when Artanis came by to fetch us. She gave us a once-over and smirked.

“Oh, dinner is going to be fun.”

Even though I pestered her all the way to the dining room, she refused to tell me what had her so giddy with anticipation.It had to be more than just our get-up, since she was already grinning when she came for us.

The dining room was as small as it could be for such a large family. Everyone from the earlier meeting was there, even Findis, and some more people besides, familiar and otherwise. Finwë had Míriel sit at his left, and Kasanárë and myself further down the table with his children and grandchildren, which sent a pretty obvious message about his acceptance of us. I ended up seated between the Ambarussar, right in the middle of Fëanáros children, which was just as well, because the two of them seemed content to ignore me in their excitement to tell their siblings of their latest hunting trip, from which they had returned just before our arrival. It provided me with ample opportunity to listen in and watch their family dynamics unfold.

If I did not know better, I would say Fëanáro was sulking. On the other hand, as dissimilar as his temperament was from the Fëanárë I knew, him sulking would not surprise me much. He spent the meal in deep conversation with his wife, glancing at Finwë and his neighbors every now and then, but ignoring the rest of the company, even his own children. Meanwhile, Kasanárë had ensconced herself between Nolofinwë and Anairë on the one side and Irimë and Palantir on the other side, entertaining them well, judging by their laughter. Later, I learned that they had been comparing my father’s persistent courting of my mother with the whirlwind romance that had led to Fëanáro’s and Nerdanel’s marriage.

As dinner flowed seamlessly into another course of tea, the seven sons of Fëanáro turned their attention to me.

“So you are Turko’s little maiden double?” Carnistir sneered, and I almost choked on my bun.

“More like his alternate self, really,” I corrected. “But I think I turned out better.”

It was funny how quickly the angry flush rose from his collar to his cheeks, stark red despite his dark skin. Good to see that Tyelkormo’s little brother was just as quickly riled on his brother’s behalf as mine. They were not so hopeless after all.

“Although I have to admit, I envy you for your exceptional hound. It is a most magnificent beast.”

My sincere admiration soothed Carnistir sufficiently to have him sit down again. Tyelkormo was silent, watching me instead of participating.

“You did that on purpose,” Atarinkë observed.

“Of course I did. Had to see just how much you have in common with me and my siblings. Well, except for you and those two,” I gestured towards the twins. “I only have three siblings. We used to speculate how the environment affects people, after the great family reunion. We were all Tatyar after all, but quite different in many ways, even though our grandparents had lived with a shared culture. The differences only become more interesting considering that your father and mine are basically the same people, but he of all people turned out so different, yet still the same in some points. It’s difficult to describe.”

“Why would you expect them to be the same, even if they have the same parents? You already said that your grandfather Finwë is different from our grandfather Finwë, why then should his son Fëanárë be the same as his son Fëanáro? Especially since one of them grew up without a father, and the other without a mother. Finwë and Míriel are different people after all, they are bound to have raised their children differently.”

I had not noticed Maitimo sitting behind me until he had spoken. His objection was sound, but missed the point.

“I do not expect them to be the same. It just takes some getting used to. Do you not feel the discrepancy when you talk to one of your twin brothers, and halfway through the conversation you notice that you were not talking to the one you thought? Multiply that feeling a few times and you get what upsets me so.”

“Ai, but Pityo and Telvo are not so different from each other after all!” Makalaurë crowed from the other side, causing twin glares to focus on him.

“Don’t glare at me so, little ones, I am sure Tyelperimmírë can not keep you apart.”

“Pityafinwë, and Telufinwë,” I said with a deadpan, pointing at the respective twin. Stunned looks followed my correct identification.

“I have twin nieces. They have tried to play the ‘I’m not Tirrúnya, she’s Tirrúnya’-game since they were old enough to talk.”

My explanation soothed their disappointment, and we began to tell each other family stories, about twins and otherwise. They were surprised by the great number of people I named kin, while I was surprised by their refusal to call many kin that I would have considered so. I was familiar with the custom to count only those as cousins who had common ancestors in Aman, but their stubborn refusal to count the relatives of Indis among their cousins astounded me as much as their insistence that the descendant of Indis were only half-siblings of their father, or half-cousins of theirs. Why anyone would prefer to have less relatives eluded me, for I loved all my nieces, nephews, siblings, cousins, parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents and great-grandparents to be lovely people whose company I enjoyed whenever I had it. I was waxing lyrical about the reed-pipes of our many times great uncle Curwë when Tyelkormo interrupted me with a shoulderbump.

“We should go an join grandfather in his discussion.”

Finwë, Indis and Míriel had been joined at the head table by Kasanárë, Findis and a pair of Maiar. Huan greeted the two of them enthusiastically while Finwë directed Tyelkormo and me to sit in the middle of the circle they had formed and introduced me to Calion and Alcarrámë. They observed us for a while with twitching ears before she broke the silence.

“We should be able to find the divergent melody and identify the reason for your presence with these two. The differences between the themes are minuscule, how fascinating.”

She lapsed into silence again, and for a while nothing happened except for the intensifying frown of concentration on both Maiar’s faces, until Calion opened his eyes wide and descended into rapid Valarin. The lights flared a little higher and a stray breeze fluttered in through a window at his outburst.

“I will return shortly,” Alcarrámë announced, before leaving through the window on silver wings. We were left to stare after her and glance at each other in confusion. She did indeed return quickly, for I barely got to sip my tea before she arrived no less dramatic than she left. As she shifted back into a more familiar shape, three Valar flowed into corporeality behind her. I recognized Manwë by the feathered trappings and Varda by the crown of stars, but the third was entirely unfamiliar. There was no identifying aspect adorning the fana, and its physical characteristics were nondescript and contradictory. All three of them did not even glance at us before a fierce three way argument began. The vocalized part was Valarin again, but at least half of it was not vocalized at all, going by the stretches of silence.

“Why don’t we just ask them instead of speculating?” the strange Vala tossed in. “Tell us what you remember of your transition, everything that led up to it and how you arrived here.”

So I told again of my very ordinary wedding feast, and going to bed unsuspecting. There had been nothing to indicate our rough awakening. The Valar listened intently, and I finally recognized Melkor by their intense focus, even though I wondered why they were missing the usual wreath of burning ice.

“You awoke as you had fallen asleep, then, all of you?” they prodded further. I nodded, uncertain of the purpose of this interrogation.

“And my clothes were just where I left them, except everything else wasn’t,” I explained further.

“See?” Melkor turned towards the other Ainur with a triumphant smile. “If I had pulled them through, they would not have arrived so neatly. They were set down here on purpose. We can reverse the effect easily.”

Many things became evident to me in that moment. The unfortunate timing of our involuntary trip was indeed a prank, but one that I had played on myself. Melkor had warned us that it was an ominous date for a wedding, cautioning to postpone the celebration by a few days, but when no explanation followed and the other Valar were equally forthcoming, we had ignored it. Now I realized that the date had not been particularly unlucky for a wedding, but rather favourable to the magic that had transported us, and Melkor had been reluctant to interfere with my wedding. It also shone a new light on some conversations that I had witnessed in the advent of this whole incident.

“Thank you, your Grace, for enlightening me. I will make sure to express my gratitude properly once we are returned.”

At once, all attention focused on me, not only from the Ainur, but from my whole family as well. As I explained my conclusion, Varda graced me with a gentle smile.

“Please extend my appreciation also. We are grateful for the promise your sojourn carries.”

I do not remember ever seeing an Ainur lose control of their manifestation like Manwë did in that moment. They wavered, seemingly growing in size and shrinking at the same time while their feathers fluttered as if a current was ruffling them. Varda said something in Valarin that made Manwë take wing and cause Melkor’s eyes to flash brightly before turning their attention back to us.

“We will unravel the enchantment by the brightest light of Telperion under the trees and restore you to your proper time and place. Bring along everything that arrived here with you.”

That said, they dissolved into dazzling luminescence, and when the lighting conditions returned to normal, Melkor was gone as well. The circle began disbanding then, but not before Tyelkormo invited me to join him at the archery range later with some of his brothers and cousins.

 

* * *

 

I took the time to change back into my own clothes, even though my finery was as ill-suited to an archer’s contest of skill as the robes we had been given, but I could set my hunting trophies aside at the archery range. I suppose I was lucky to have Míriel with me, because there was none more skilled with cloth and thread than her, and together we managed to improvise sufficient chest binding out of my embroidered tabards. I pulled on a long hooded cloak over that, even though I held no illusions that I could pass through Tirion without drawing attention. Only when I left the suite again do I realize that I lacked not only proper clothing for archery, but my bow and arrows as well. I would have to borrow one from Irissë or watch from the sidelines.

The archery range was part of a larger complex of training grounds for all kinds of physical activities of varying levels of violence, conveniently constructed next to a set of hot and cold springs which fed the attached baths. It was an ingenious system, to soak in hot water or steam right after weapons training or a wrestling match. Tyelkormo and Aikanáro were busy shooting arrows, hitting the center effortlessly, while the others watched from behind, clustered in groups and chatting. The courtyard was too small to provide a real challenge for an experienced archer, which led to the competition being less one of skill, and more one of distracting the other competitors into imprecision. For this purpose alone, Makalaurë had brought along a cittern and was alternating between increasingly bawdy ditties and improvised pieces that mocked all competitors alike.

I left my necklaces and bangles with my cloak, stringing up my borrowed bow and checking the arrows I had picked once again. The background noise diminished as I stepped forward to join in. Unsurprisingly, everyone was curious to watch me do the most mundane things, given that I was one of the most exciting things to happen in their lifetime. I hit dead center a few times before Findekáno snatched up Makalaurë’s cittern from his immobile hands and struck up a cheerful tune, prompting the others to resume their cheer. While those two squabbled over the instrument, Irissë succeeded me in the game, and I went to stand next to Tyelkormo, who was watching her closely.

“You know, for all the differences between our worlds, this is not so different. Your are still in love with each other.”

He stared at me as if I had grown a second head.

“Don’t look so surprised. I am you, in a way, after all. I recognize the way you watch her, and how she watches you. Didn’t you realize when I spoke of my wife? I married Irissë just before we were transported here.”

“But you’re cousins! And both women. It’s not done.”

“You have much to learn, yet. Although I have to admit, my way was paved by Magitë and Findekáno. Well, Maitimo in your case. They are very cute together, even if you oldest brother seems much less fun than mine.”

“Nelyo and Findekáno? You must be joking!”

“Are they that much more discreet here? Magitë is very physically affectionate with the people he likes, even compared to the rest of the family, but then, he never had a reason to restrain himself.”

Tyelkormo fell silent then, turning his attention to his brother and cousin.

“You should talk to each other, and with Finwë and Indis, too, if you think your fathers value their feud over the happiness of their children. I’m sure Míriel has been giving those two ideas all day. Together, you can change everything. And from what I’ve seen, Varda and Melkor will be supportive as well.”

“Why are you so meddlesome all of a sudden? Does it have something to do with that cryptic stuff the Valar said?”

“Yes.”

I paused, only to annoy him with my monosyllabic answer.

“We were sent here to meddle. So I’m doing what I can to fulfill my task. You deserve to be as happy as I am. Besides, it’s fun.”

 

* * *

 

Only Finwë, Indis and Findis accompanied Míriel, Kasanárë and me to the Ezellohar, where a few Ainur were already waiting. We had already taken leave of the others, imparting last-minute advice in some cases. Míriel was still hugging them goodbye when a Maia directed me to stand closer to the trunk of Telperion. There was a moment of silence after they had arranged us to their satisfaction, before Manwë, Melkor and Varda began weaving the melody together. One after the other, the other Valar and then the Maiar joined in, creating a breathtaking harmony. The world was blurring before my eyes as their voices rose to a terrifying crescendo, until all fell silent and my vision cleared. I was still on Ezellohar with my aunt and grandmother, but the circle of Ainur around us had been replaced by the ordinary flutter of Maiar who cared for the trees, collected their nectar or frolicked under their light with the Eldar.

Our arrival had not gone unnoticed, and it was only a little later that we were swarmed by awfully well informed Maiar who wanted to know how our trip had been. Behind them, I noticed Melkor smiling at me, distinctive with their crown of burning ice and a golden dragon lounging on their shoulders.

“See? I told you they would come back. I would not have sent them over otherwise, Rušûrin,” I could hear them say. “My siblings are not entirely incapable, after all, even when I am not supervising them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names for my OCs:  
> Calion - the Golden  
> Alcarrámë - splendid wings  
> Rušûrin - little flame
> 
> I was tempted to convert all C=>K or K=>C, but ended up confusing myself. Why is the source material so inconsistent? -.-’ I mean, Kuiviénen looks just as shitty as Macalaurë, let alone Kurufinwë or Findecáno… -.-’ Well, the ‘original’ would be written in Tengwar, this is just a bad transcription by me.  
> Valar are generally addressed with ‘your Grace’. I originally wanted to go with my Lord/my Lady, but that would clash with the gender-neutral pronouns and descriptions I tried to stick to the rest of the time. English just doesn’t have the necessary vocabulary, it’s a pain. I just always thought it a bit illogical that beings that switch bodies like we humans switch clothing should adhere to any sort of gender binary, especially since I don't believe that they have anything resembling biological sex. At least not as we humans understand it. Maiar choose fanar closer in appearance to elves, and thus get gendered pronouns from me.


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